Sigils and spells, p.87
Sigils & Spells, page 87
Enid was a relative newbie to magic, having only just discovered her witchy heritage. I would never admit it out loud, but even I felt protective of the lavender-eyed female. She was just so nice. So soft. My heart ached for her. Soft things did not last in the supernatural world.
“Nothing,” she replied, shrugging her shoulder and her light brown hair lifted with the slight motion. “I just wanted you to know, no one is judging you, Tana. Everyone here cares about you. But I, well, I’m getting some strange vibes around you lately.”
Her voice had dropped to a near whisper, and I struggled to keep my breathing steady.
What was with everyone calling me strange lately?
“I have to go,” I said, pushing past her.
It had been weeks since I used my magic. My attempts to keep my stores at full capacity so when I faced down my mother’s killers was actually paining me. Magic was a craft and crafts needed to be used. I knew this, but I was the epitome of a stubborn redhead. Though, at the moment, my hair seemed dull and washed out.
Fuck.
I missed the vibrant red it used to be.
Frowning, I walked faster, ignoring the witches and wizards milling about around me. My rubber-soled leather boots made no sound on the stone floors of the hall as I raced to my secret place.
It didn’t matter how I felt about wasting my magical stores. My inner flame was pulsing inside of me, heating me from within. It wanted out, and I needed to get as far away from my dorm and roommates as I could.
Uncontrolled fire magic was as dangerous as putting a nuclear weapon in a madman’s grasp. True, I did not know the extent of my magic, but I suspected it went beyond candle lighting. There was a whole catalog of fire magic Westwood Academy refused to teach.
It was my mother’s line, the Newton witches, bound to the element of fire, and yet, no true fire witch had been born for generations. Sure, I had cousins with a real affinity for the stuff. Most left Westwood to join the Incendo Coven witches, and yes, they could bend fire to their will at higher success rates than most other witches.
But bonfire lighting, using candles to focus spells, and purifying flames were not nearly enough for me to get revenge. I’d been combing the libraries not only for evidence of those responsible for the deaths of my mother and grandmother, for the absence of my father who was trapped in the suffering madness of losing his mate, but also for the spells I would need to exact my vengeance.
I’d only been mildly successful in finding what I would need. First, tracking the witches who’d hurt them was a priority and something I could possibly do with a locator spell. First, I would need to know who or what I was tracking. That was problem number one.
As for my arsenal of fighting casts, I’d learned about burning spells. This forbidden magic was only used during times of war, and my attempts at finding actual working casts have been wildly unsuccessful.
It was all about control, and I had very little when I was casting. It was an impossible situation. If I practiced my magic to learn control, I would expend my inherited and natural stores. This was the reason fire witches did not have the same power as other elementals. It took up too much magic to find the right balance.
I stuttered a step along the path behind the mansion and into the woods that led to my secret place. Fuck, trying to control my inner magic was taking a toll on my physical strength, and I knew I was going to blow any minute.
For one brief moment, I wished I was a shifter with the ability to sense if I was truly alone, but that sort of thing was futile. A secret longing I kept to myself.
Sweat beaded along my brow, and I could hardly breathe for the weight weighing me down. Shivers wracked my body, but it was the sudden influx of heat that really made me tremble.
“Shit, oh shit,” I moaned as I fell to my knees behind a large stand of trees blocking a couple of boulders that sat guarding the edge of the woods.
Below them was a cliff overlooking a small, hidden valley of fruit trees and pines, where sprites and elves worked their earthy magic. This part of the woods had no rhyme or reason, but it was breathtaking, and my very favorite place when I was at Westwood.
Every inch of this secret wood was precious, beautiful, but I did not dare step foot there. Not when I was so volatile—and that seemed to be always just lately.
No, I remained in my place. The stone strewn, hard-packed dirt surrounding the boulders was my domain.
Nausea crept up my throat, and I turned my back to the stunning view below and faced the huge rock that had become my personal whipping post.
The longer I tried to tamp down my magic, the angrier it became. Thunder filled my ears, and I closed my eyes against the terrible sound. When I opened them once more, looking down, it was to find my entire body aflame.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Tana? Tana! Where are you?”
“I saw her come this way.”
“Tana!”
“Perhaps she wants to be alone.”
I heard Rio and Magnus calling my name. They were with someone else, and I had a sneaking suspicion who it was. I froze.
Shit.
I did not want them to see me like this, but there was nothing to be done. My magic had been cooped up too long.
Pain blinded me a moment, and I tossed my head back and screamed, unable to keep it inside me.
I felt my body levitate off the ground, and my frightened gaze spanned the three figures walking toward me, stopping when I saw him.
Brandon.
Shit.
I had to expel some of my power before they got any closer or I would burn them all.
Turning to the rock formation, still bearing the ash and scorch marks of previous encounters, I allowed a single bolt of flame to explode from me like a rocket, hitting the boulder with so much force it would have cracked it if the thing had not already been magicked to withstand such trauma.
Of course, I forgot about the tremendous toll this took on my body, and even as Rio screamed for me, the water witch had conjured a wave from the moisture in the air to land on my body, dousing the flames that still covered me.
“Tana! Are you okay?”
But I could not answer. I was too weak to even blink. I wanted to comfort her, tell her I was okay, but then Brandon was there, lifting me against his wickedly hot body and warming my freezing form. I was still clothed. Most of my wardrobe had temporary spells, making them fireproof—a necessity for the classes I took where other elementals worked their flames with, unfortunately, very little aim.
“You’re gonna be fine, Tana McKenna. I got you now, mo spréach,” he growled close to my ear.
And for some reason, I believed him. The out-of-control spiral I’d been on seemed to halt in the wake of the dragon shifter’s embrace. My magic rose inside me, wanting to wrap around the beast of a man, but I reined it in. I could never be like regular girls, crushing on boys and falling in love.
I had a job to do, and besides, my control over my magic was unreliable. Look at what I had to do just to get by, for fuck’s sake. Sentinels were off limits to witches, anyway. And I was not like most witches.
I was a ticking time bomb.
CHAPTER 5
“I don’t understand what was going on, Tana?” Rio asked.
Her blue hair was swirling around her shoulders as if she was under water, and I had to admit it was cool. Magnus and Brandon were both standing in my small bedroom, taking up way too much space.
Fucking alphahole shifters.
Always sucking the air out of a room.
“What?” I replied slowly.
Was it my fault having Brandon and all his silver-eyed hotness in my bedroom was making it hard to think?
I turned my back on him, ignoring the rumbling growl even my dull hearing could pick up as I ran a brush through my still damp thanks to Rio tresses.
“You were on fire, Tana. Your whole body, and it looked painful. Talk to me,” Rio said, sitting next to me.
“I can’t,” I whispered, already knowing that was saying too much. “I have to go.”
Standing up on shaky legs, I saw Brandon flinch as if he wanted to move forward, but Magnus’ hand shot out, stilling the dragon.
Interesting, he let him, I thought before leaving my room.
I really had to get my focus back. Thinking about the dragon hybrid made no sense at all. Waste of time, and I had little left. Looking at my phone, I saw the message from my dad and my heart stopped.
Tana,
I’m close. I visited the site of the last battle of the Second Witch Wars where Florence fell. No one is guarding the grounds anymore. I’ve contacted a necromancer. Soon, I’ll see exactly what transpired here. I will find out who killed your mother, Tana.
He didn’t bother to sign it, and his slightly manic tone would have worried me if I didn’t also feel his excitement. Once we had a name, I could use a locater spell to track the bastards. They wouldn’t remain hidden for long.
“Miss McKenna,” Headmistress Armstrong’s voice whipped across the entryway to Incendo Coven Hall, where I’d been headed for the weekly seminar on using fire as a medium to cast spells.
Sure, the seminar was usually boring, but it gave me an opportunity to observe my fellow Incendo Coven hopefuls. The varying shades of redheaded witches and wizards worked toward controlling what was ultimately the most uncontrollable element of them all.
“Yes?”
“A moment of your time,” the former professor said, turning without checking to see if I would follow.
I’d had one uncomfortable meeting so far this semester with the headmistress, and was not looking forward to another. The witch was as guarded as the green medallion she wore around her neck. I often stared at the piece, wondering if held powers or if her affection for it was purely sentimental.
She led me away from Incendo Coven Hall to her office, and I closed the door behind me when instructed. Schooling my face to remain impassive, I waited for her to speak first.
“You seem to spend more time in the library than you do your classes, Miss McKenna,” she stated.
A reply seemed unnecessary, so I remained quiet. Her eyes narrowed, but her mood was not unfriendly. She had reason to be upset. Westwood Academy boasted the finest witch and wizard graduates across the supernatural world. Supernaturals would and have killed to enter these hallowed halls as students.
“You’re failing, Miss McKenna.”
For a second, I thought she was talking about mine and my father’s quest for vengeance and my stomach dropped. Then she turned a school issued tablet toward me, and I saw she meant my grades.
Well, fuck.
I didn’t realize things had slipped that far.
Not good, Tana.
Not good.
“I have noticed you wandering off campus often, and since I owe it to your late Grandmother Newton, I am assigning you sentinel to escort you to and from classes. No more skipping, Miss McKenna.”
I frowned.
Armstrong knew my grandmother?
That was the first I’d heard of it. She looked too young to have seen the Second Witch Wars, but we aged differently, slower than normals. There was nothing I could say in my defense, so silence it was. I was curious about her association with my grandmother, though.
“How did you know my grandmother?” I asked boldly.
“She was a friend. A mentor at one time,” the headmistress said, and her voice took on a whimsical quality.
A knock sounded at the door, and we were joined by Leanna Stolbright, the magical talent scout who walked the world to find witches and wizards among the normals who needed training. She was a blonde-haired bitch of a woman, never smiled, and always seemed up to something forever writing notes in her little black book. She was the one who delivered my invitation to Westwood to my father, and before I could refuse, he’d sent me packing.
Okay, so maybe my hatred was a little biased.
Whatever.
“Headmistress, the Watchman sent Flint to see to your special request,” she gritted out and my pulse sped up.
It could not be.
What the fuck were the Fates up to now?
I scowled.
“Headmistress, I assure you I will make it to all my classes. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Well, Miss McKenna, I think you do,” she replied, and dismissed me with a wave of her hand.
I turned around angrily, ignoring Stolbright’s smirk, and almost bumping into my new six and a half foot nanny. Brandon’s face remained blank as he moved out of my way gracefully. I didn’t bother listening for his footsteps. The bastard was too good at being quiet.
“I missed the seminar already. You don’t have to follow me back to my room,” I growled.
“I take my orders from the Watchman, not you, mo spréach,” he replied easily.
“In that case, I’m not going back to my room. It’s only six-thirty, but I’ll be spending the rest of the night in the library.”
Take that, I thought mutinously.
The dragon would get bored, and I could be alone with my research. The earlier events of the day left me feeling better, though I admit, tired. I needed to find a way to not waste my stores of magic before the upcoming battle.
I grabbed a couple of heavy tomes from the shelf and sat at a table in the back. Brandon stood a few feet away from the back of my chair while I worked. It was disturbing the number of students who thought the library was some sort of party room. I guess that’s what happened when young people were presented with new authority figures.
Miss Cleve was whispering at the louder ones to hush, running from table to table, looking haggard as ever. I wondered if Mr. O’Flannery was enjoying his retirement; if not, maybe he would consider returning to his old post.
I was reading a History of Pyromantics, lost somewhere in the beautiful prose of Witch Elphaba Blair. She described the element I was born to as “the spark that birthed the creation of chaos” and I was simply hooked. It was a twist on chaos theory, speculating magic as the offspring of the great void before time began. In Witch Blair’s hypothesis, first, there was nothing, then there was fire, and from fire, everything.
“Here,” Brandon’s deep murmur sent shivers down my spine as he placed a mug of steaming chai beside me.
The fragrant drink made me sigh, and I took the cup, warming my hands from the chill I did not even know I’d developed.
“When did you leave?” I asked, puzzled.
“I didn’t. I had the cafeteria deliver this for you.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize they did that,” I mumbled, sipping the delicious brew.
“What had you smiling as you were reading?” he asked, and I looked up to see his gray eyes sharpen with curiosity.
“Oh, it’s just, the author’s voice is so passionate when she speaks about her element. Um, let me see. Here, listen to this. ‘Fire has many natures. It is the creator, nurturing life, heating flesh, cooking food, purifying disease, tempering steel. But we must never forget, it is also the destroyer. Consuming all in its path. Burning at remarkable rates. Uncontrolled. Willful. It will always find a way. Fire is the symbol of destruction, of power, and of rebirth.’ Well?” I asked and felt my cheeks heat in a way they hadn’t in weeks.
“Powerful,” Brandon said, his closeness doing insane things to my insides.
“Attention,” Miss Cleve’s voice rang loudly throughout the entire library, and I noticed the sentinel wince slightly at the sound.
Undoubtedly, the volume hurt his sensitive ears, and I wanted to throw something at the librarian just to shut her up. Too intense a reaction for me to have over someone who meant nothing to me.
Liar.
Shut up, I told myself.
“The library will close in five minutes.”
Miss Cleve’s announcement had me glancing at my phone. There, in bright green text the time stared at me. It was 9:55.
Shit.
I’d only meant to waste an hour of the sentinel’s time, but now I felt guilty.
Standing up, I grabbed the books and placed them on the return cart. They would find their way back to the shelves with no help from anyone else. It was magic, of course, and a wonderful spell at that, ensuring no books were ever put back wrongly.
“Um, I’m sorry I kept you so long,” I mumbled my half-assed apology.
“No apology necessary.”
“I was wondering,” I said, daring to ask about something he’d said a while back that had been bugging me ever since. “What did you mean, I smell strange?”
“Ah, I figured you would ask about that,” Brandon mumbled, making a clicking sound behind his teeth.
It reminded me of the sound an old flintlock pistol made before igniting. My father had a collection of ancient weapons, and used to show me them before he’d become so obsessed with finding my mother’s killers.
“It’s not a strong today, but it still lingers.”
“What does?”
Brandon looked uncomfortable, but I was really fucking confused. He was a hybrid, and though he seemed to have magic apart from his beast, he was still a shifter. His sense of smell was highly refined.
“Ah, forget it,” he grumbled, but I was not letting this go.
We entered the hallway to the west wing where the dorms, and more importantly, my room, were located. It was empty, thank fuck, because I didn’t want an audience for this little question-answer session.
“No. I won’t forget it. Tell me.”
“You just smelled different. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Different?” I asked, not nearly satisfied with his answer. “Different from what?”
Brandon’s hooded stare bore into me, but I was not backing down. If the sentinel knew something about me from my scent, I wanted to know what it was. Maybe he could give me some insight into what was happening when I had my magical outbursts.
I did not know his intentions, but when I felt the first rumble emanate from his chest, I knew I was fucked. Brandon turned his back on me, and I saw him suck in a deep breath. His dragon was riding him hard, and I was shocked into stillness. Raw power seemed to seep from his pores, and my magic was pulsing beneath my skin.
